I bet Van Gogh's mother didn't have to put up with this

Deb, I love the pillow I won from your blog.

In fact, I was going to do a whole post about this amazing pillow that I won, that you made and how it contains the alphabet on it.

Bombshell shocker:

My son has decorated it with red marker.

I'm putting it in the wash. I'll let you know how it fares.

I've been contemplating painting the kids room.

My son likes to colour on the wall.

I've put the whole painting thing on hold.

Markers now reside high up and out of son's reach.

My son has now mastered climbing into forbidden areas where markers are kept out of high reach.

I'm thinking of teaching my son 'no' in 7 different languages. I am hoping this will get the point across.

He's two.

He's on the loose.

And he's an artist.

I'm the parent.

I'm in charge.

But he's too artistic to take me seriously.

Help!

Death of a Talking Toy

I've done something I'm not proud of.

And yet, here I am, oh-so-willing to admit it to my readers.

Perhaps this will be a cleansing of the soul-- a redemption of sorts.

My son.

My pure and innocent son.

He owns a toy.

Not just any toy.

A toy that talks.

A toy that makes noise.

A lot of noise.

I saw him playing with this toy in the bath tub water.

And I thought, "I should pull that toy out before it gets wrecked."

And then I thought, "Or maybe not."

Water has destroyed a great many of things...why not make annoying talking toys another one of its casualties?

These things happen.

Or so I will tell myself tonight should I have trouble falling asleep over choosing to do nothing while a toy met it's demise.

'Cause that's how we roll

On the day after Easter, we have a tradition that my eldest daughter started when she was four.

We grab our eggs and call them all Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great push....I mean, fall

all the kings horses and all the kings men

couldn't put Humpty together again

Happy Egg Smashing!

Love is in the air...mail

We're getting all our love packaged up and shipping it out to those who live far away. We may have snuck a few candy hearts along the way.

The New Interpretation of the Early Bird gets the Worm

I have a love/hate relationships with cliches.

At first, I loved them. Just take a look at my grade five creative writing journals. Every story ends with one.

And then I didn't like them. They fell in the same category as air quotes and the constant over-use of "Excellent, Smithers!" while drumming my fingers together. I didn't particular like them but I kept using them as I communicated.

And now I find that I'm back to sorta liking them again. Although, today I've decided to modernize a few and re-invent a few to reflect my life.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

New meaning:

10 minutes locked in my bathroom in silence makes me a better mom

All in due time

New meaning:

No, I said you need to wait for me to finish this before I get you a drink

Never pet a burning chicken

New meaning

Well, this is just sage advice. You don't mess with a classic.

One bird in hand is worth two in the bush

New meaning

It's easier to carry a duck than a tree full of blue jays

Slow and steady wins the race

New meaning

Someday the laundry will get done

Things aren't what they used to be

New meaning

Does anyone know where Mom's broom handle went to? Is that what's holding up your fort right now?

Chatty Cathy

New meaning

Please be quiet and don't interrupt, you're Dad and I are trying to talk.

Fork it over

New meaning

The cutlery is your job and there's no playing til it's done.

Full of himself

New meaning

Mom, 'Drew's diaper is full

How about you? Any cliches you can turn into Mom-isms?

Under cover

We're under the weather

So we're under the covers

Sneezing and coughing

Spewing and sputters

We're snuggled up on the couch

Reading books, drinking tea

We read Shakespeare's Tempest

A man-made storm on the sea

We learned about germs

And our body's system of defense

Then we read Rudyard Kipling

And had a big rest

We listened to the Arabian tales

of fair Shahrazad

And said that snuggling while sick

wasn't all that bad

Robert Munsch entertained us

as we ate bowls of grapes

We looked up the word 'curtiosity'*

and fables of apes

Later, we did word puzzles

and coughed in our sleeves

watched avalanches on you tube

and talked of disease

Finished the Gospel of Mark

and ate crackers of graham

Then tried to stop squabbling

that broke out into mayhem

Now the day is all done

And was like any other

Because we cozied up on the couch

Under the covers

What my neighbors know about me from their window observations

I live in a little town.

When I go to the "city" for a day of errands, I need to take a lot with me because we are going to be there all day. Being prepared is of the utmost importance.

I have neighbors across the street, and if they have opportunity to look out the window yesterday here's what they learned about me:

1. That woman is going places: At 9 am I loaded my kids into the car. Lovingly, strapped them into their car seats and made sure everyone had their necessary comforts (blankets,pet dinosaurs, water, etc.) I started the car.

2. That woman has a lot on her mind:At 9:02 am I shut off the vehicle and realized that I needed my keys to open the house because I forgot to bring the lunch I packed for us. I went inside, grabbed the goods and locked the door. Informing my crew that we were now ready, I started the van.

3. That woman is forgetful: At 9:06 am, I shut off the vehicle and realized that I needed my keys to open the house to get my garage keys. I race out to the garage and grab the stroller for my not-so-baby baby boy, load it in the van and start the vehicle.

4. That woman is harming the environment: At 9:10 am, I once again shut the vehicle off fully aware of the gas-wasting going on. I realized that I needed my keys to get back in the house so that I could make a long-distance phone call that needed to be made before I spent all day away from my home phone.

5. That woman is irresponsible: My children were strapped in their seats-- unattended-- while I made the phone call inside. Hanging up, I took 3 calming breaths as I realized I was going to be late to our first appointment.

6. That woman runs around like her hair is on fire: With flourish, I slam the front door and run down the steps. In a moment of self-doubt, I run back up and check to see if the door is locked. It is. I run back down the steps and quickly panic that I have left my keys in the house. A quick pat down of the pockets reveals that once again I have had a moment of self-doubt. The keys are in my right hand coat pocket. With flourish, I wrench open the van door and start it up.

7. That woman drives like a maniac: At 9:15 am I start my van and put pedal to the medal. I only take up most of the road as I speed ( read: safely maneuvered) around the sidewalk and parked vehicles of my neighbor.

8. That woman is not to be messed with...or perhaps she's on medication: I've got the "I'm on a mission" glare in my eyes. The tunes are cranked and I've already told the crew in the van there is no talking, asking questions, wondering, or mentioning anything about going to the bathroom until we are outside city limits.

This is what my neighbors know about me.

Or would know about me if they had had their curtains open. ;)

My Son and I

who just turned one!

Be warned, Grandma...high expectations here

A and I were eating lunch and she was getting goofy.

"You need to calm down," I said.

"Will you tell that to my children too?" A asks.

"Yes, of course. I'm going to be an awesome Grandma."

"Awesome?"

"Yes."

A thinks for a bit. "Ok, but you're going to need to eyes that shoot lasers because that's awesome."

I've got a few years to work on that, should be doable.

Honeyed words

My son said, "Mama"

The beginning of many, many wonderful statements.

"Mommy! Come here."

"Mo-om, I'm hungry!"

"Mooooooooom" (followed by me chewing on my heart as I run to see if there's blood)

"Mom." Said with rolling eyes and effort as he will pick up his coat off the floor.

"Mmmoomm" The call that requests my presence when feeling sad.

"Mommmmm," said with pleading eyes for the skateboard that I don't want him to go on unless he wears a full body pillow suit that will protect him from hurting himself.

He says it over and over right now. Each time as though it were a fresh discovery.

His eyes lit up and mine do, too.

Mom.

It's my favourite word. And apparently, right now, it's his too.

Growing Fairy Tales

As I was working in the garden, my eldest daughter announced, "I'm planting my bubble gum into the ground. I'm going to water it and watch it grow."

My three year old decided to follow suit. After handfuls of dirt were ceremoniously dumped on top of the bright blue well-chewed "seed" and a quick dash of water was sprinkled on top we awaited the growth of the bubble gum tree.

My three year old gleefully told us how it would all unfold. "First, the bubble gum will grow into a tree. Then we will pick the bubble gum, wash it off, dry it and then," with eyes growing big, "we will EAT the bubble gum."

We all trudged in for lunch and over soup and tuna sandwiches told Daddy about what we were busy planting. He just smiled and wished us well.

My oldest leaned over and whispered to us, "I know that planting bubble gum won't make a bubble gum tree. I just wanted to take Brie to the land of fairy tales."

I'm a grandmother!

My daughter announced she was pregnant today...with the air pocket packing that comes in the box with books from Amazon.ca.

Anyway, she first had 6 kids, and then 5 more. Thank goodness she is not an "octo-mom", I don't think we could handle the barrage of media or the number of family members who would come out of the woodwork announcing that "that Grandmother is not stable."

So, I am a grandmother to two fuzzy ducks, a baby tiger, three teddy bears, an elephant, a multi-coloured horse, a Pooh bear, a lady bug and a Lego.

I'm going shopping for them...not matter how unstable it makes me look.

plastered...to the window

If you drove down the street and saw a woman plastered to the window...a woman with a wild and desperate look in her eye...a woman whose face is pressed against the glass and her mouth is yelling, "Let me out! Let me out!" Don't worry, it was me.

Oh, I am fine. More than fine. The laundry is done, the house is cleaned, bills are paid, food is prepped. My kids are quietly colouring on the floor. Jeep is working his way through the taxes...and me, I'm bored. Boooo00OO00oooored. Let me out of my house!!!

What does a woman do when everything is caught up and she finds herself with free time?

Naturally, she goes to the grocery store.

Where is my camera when I need it?!

My handsome husband, Jeep, has gone visiting his family and taken the camera with him. So, alas, I cannot capture the following images:

-Jeep brought home some paper grocery bags for inspiration for the girls. SuperGirl and Missie-Moo made hilarious faces on them and instinctively knew to place them over their head. SuperGirl drew arms on the side parts of the bag. Hilarious. Especially since the paper bags covers 2/3rds of Missie-Moo's body.

-Me wearing the Tigger toque--which is a pretend helmet. We were sitting on a stack giant letter puzzle when SuperGirl put the helmet on me. I said, "we aren't going to crash are we?" And she replied, "Well, we might. I sometimes fall asleep when I drive my scooter."

-SuperGirl drew a very Dr. Seuss-like drawing of Missie-Moo and a very accurate self-portrait of herself

-Our Little Man's "new" bed: a wide cardboard box and a pillow inside.

-Missie-Moo,recognizing the need for a helmet on a scooter ride with SuperGirl, tied a green rope around a small plastic tray/basket and fastened it to her head.

-if only I had a camera to catch a fun, fast-paced game of "Lego toss into the Paper Bag." Oh, the many uses of a paper bag!

It's a boy!

Tada! Here he is!
Our Little Man


Early Friday morning at 2 am my water broke and we woke up to go to the hospital. Jeep was quickly getting our girls into the car, while I did the dishes. I have an aversion to the idea of coming home to a sink full of dirty dishes.
Jeep announced that my contractions were 5 minutes apart and that if I had any ideas of vacuuming the living room, he would put me in the van right away! So we left.


We raced down the highway since we live half hour away from the city with the hospital that would do our delivery. Speeding along, Jeep noted that my contractions were 4 minutes apart.
As we did, we drove past an RCMP officer, who immediately turned on his lights, signaling us to pull over. Too hilarious! When he walked up to the window and asked us why we were speeding, Jeep enthusiastically declared,"My wife's in labour!"
The officer encouraged us to drive a cetain speed with our emergency lights flashing and to get there safely.

Once at the hospital, we only had to breathe through 2 and a half hours of contractions before we were shocked and surprised as we delivered a litle boy!
Jeep and I were stunned for about 5 minutes as we realized we finally had a son.


This is Jeep re-enacting my final moments of labour. As the pain intensified, I took the breathing gas for the final ten minutes as we waited for the doctor to arrive. My body was ready to go but the doctor was not there yet. Our Little Man is a man of momentum--he came in 3 hours and 47 minutes! And he was 9 lbs 6 oz. A very big boy!

Thank you to everyone who has prayed for us, encouraged us, and congratulated us. We appreciate you and value the time that you've taken to celebrate with us.

This must be what happens when you eat pickles early in pregnancy...

...it manifests itself in the ninth month as a sour attitude.

I cannot believe how many meltdowns I've had in the past few days. How emotional I've become...over the dishes needing to be done, or the need to vacuum the floor again.

I've gotta get out of my house. But when I do, I realize that I have to take a walk and so I sit down, because I no longer can walk. I waddle. Rocking back and forth from side to side, like the ship from the movie "White Squall."

I keep telling myself to take a deep breath,that I am modeling for my children how they are supposed to respond in stressful situations. Lately they've learned that you sit down on the bath tub ledge and cry and say, "Why must I repeat myself over and over again...just pick up the crayons off the floor."

Suffice to say, my kids are getting great lesons in forgiveness and I'm doing my share of apologizing for erratic and unacceptable behaviour.

My oldest, SuperGirl, comes up and says, "Mom are you ok?"

"No," I reply. "I'm not. My emotions are trying to tell me how to behave."

"Well, that's silly," she says.

And wiping away my tears, I say, "Yep. It is."

I blame the pickles.

No baby yet!

I'm due tomorrow and no baby has arrived yet...even though family members from out of town keep calling me. Yes, Amy...that means you!

And this week had it's own moments of panic and the sudden realization that everything is about to change...again! Good change, but change nonetheless. It made me realize that I hadn't washed the sheets on my bed, my sock drawer needed organizing and it was finally high time I vacuumed out the lint trip...after all, who knows when I will have the chance to do that after the baby is born. (Let's not talk about the fact that I hardly ever do those things)

I'm in hyper-organization mode. My husband brought a file box into the office/baby's room. This week I finally put the crib up,did the sheets, washed the baby clothes and organized my office. And then he brought in a file box and I had a meltdown. Was he not aware that I had spent the last three days putting the room together and finally had it fully cleaned and he just upset the entire equilibrium of the universe by bringing in a file box? He didn't get a chance to respond to my rant because I moved to the kitchen where I started talking about the evils of clutter and how dare he bring in a box of things that belong to the girls room and just set it on the table. He didn't have a chance to respond because I then noticed...the poor man, he was probably more grateful then ever to go to his work's golf tournament and leave his ranting, emotional wife following him out the door saying, "Why didn't you put this tool in the garage...it doesn't belong in the living room...but in the garage, where all tools belong."

So, clearly, I'm emotional and wound up--I'll spare everyone my grocery store story and my tone used with my little girls and the nice lady at the check out counter.

Today was just a grumpy, I'm big and about to give birth and if one more relative calls me and says, "Any baby yet?" I'm going to eat the remaining two sleeves of the Oreo bag kind of day.

Which is funny because I've actually been relatively upbeat and calm throughout all of it.

And the only place i can vent is my writing--so everyone gets to hear my grumpy side!

Love to you all. There will be a baby soon. I promise.

Living in the Old West

A re-enactment of a buffalo hunt

hanging out with Miss Inez

ah, there's nothing quite as handsome as man in uniform.

Sweet old lady from the WEst

These people were thrown in jail for pretending to be an officer of the law and a sweet old lady.

When this picture was taken, the photographer said, "You're in jail. You shouldn't be smiling."
And we said,"You would smile ,too, if you did what we did."

Self esteem and the old bag of bones

My kids are so great for my self-esteem.

Today SuperGirl and Missie-Moo played a fun game that made me feel like a queen...er, a humble queen.

It started when SuperGirl said, "Mama, you're the beautifulest."

Missie-Moo added, "Mommy, you're so cute."

SuperGirl reminded me, "Mom, you're the best hugger ever."

Missie-Moo giggled,"Mommy, you're just so wonderful."

SuperGirl said, most thoughtfully, "Mama, you are just so great."

And Missie-Moo , being two and trying to be thoughtful like her sister, put her head to the side and let the wheels turn. Eyes brightening, she said, "Mommy, you're so...so...heavy!"

We all burst out laughing and Missie-Moo said, "Mommy, you are such a big girl!"

Indeed.

Easy to get on a pedestal.

Easy to get off.

How marriage happens

SuperGirl was talking with her younger sister Missie-Moo today.

"You don't know how weddings work, so I'll explain it, ok?"

I eagerly leaned my head back to learn how my 5 year old will explain marriage.

"Well, you have a man and a beautiful girl. And they dance. And everybody watches them. And that's being married."

And you know what, my kids a genius. Because when I sit back and think about it--she's absolutely right.

Jeep, thanks for being a great dance partner. Patient when I step on your toes, yet always up for disco, waltz and the oh-so-fun tango!